|my friend, Kelli, on the left, me on the right|
Side note: I was NOT athletic. I threw shot put.
I didn't qualify for an event ever. You had to
be able to throw the ball a certain number of feet
to qualify and I could never work up enough oomph.
The weight-obsession-confession. I admit, I'm guilty. I have spent most of my life worrying about my weight- even when it wasn't a problem. That picture of me on the right? I hated it. My arms were fat, my legs were thick...I looked like a beefalo. Or so I told myself.
Looking back, I'd love to have that body again! What the hell was I thinking? Obviously, I wasn't. I was too obsessed with constant worry to be logical.
This picture was taken my freshman year of high school. At a family reunion that spring, a great-aunt told me she was glad to see I had meat on my bones.
Teen-brain translation...I'm a cow.
After I had my first son, I had an epiphany. My body was more than an image. It created and sustained a life. It was disease free and every part was in reliable working condition.
Some people aren't that blessed, so I decided to stop dogging the blessings and count them instead.
I stopped worrying about weight and the scale stayed steady.
Then life hit me upside the head with a stick. A series of family crises left me off kilter and stressed for time and energy. The abandonment of healthy eating for fast food and easy to grab junk combined with the stress left me feeling double-chinned and miserable.
The obvious solution was to diet, which was the worst choice for me. When I diet, my brain is focused on food and all of the old insecurities come raging back like a beast in search of cookies. I gained more weight.
It's time to readjust my thinking-- again.
How about you? How do you find the healthy balance?